Date: Sun, 18 Dec 2022 22:34:41 +0000 From: Neo Subject: Christmas Cookies CHRISTMAS COOKIES "I still don't know why I'm doing this," I grumbled. "Come on, Dad," came Melanie's reply over the car speakers. "You'll love it. You've always said you wanted to learn. You'll meet some people, you'll have a great time, and you'll have some homemade treats to give as gifts. And you like Jack." "Hrmph," I grunted. "You're going to eat them all yourself, aren't you," accused Melanie. "Hrmph." "Okay Dad, I have to go. Enjoy it!" "Love you, sweetheart." "Love you too." The car scraped the icy road as I swung the wheel to pull into the parking lot. There was no snow on the ground, but the asphalt breathed out tiny white clouds as it tried to shake free of the creeping lattice layer that laced across its surface. It wasn't far from the car to the building, but it was so cold that I instinctively pulled my coat around me and put on my thick gloves. The cold air outside retreated in a skittering mist as it met the warmth of my breath, then rallied again and rushed to bite the exposed skin of my face. I recognized Jack instantly, though I hadn't seen him in over a year. His distinctive beard and glasses framed a smile that grew broader as his eyes met mine. "Paul!" he beamed. "You came!" "Jack," I responded, giving him a warm handshake with my still-gloved hand. "It's good to see you again, old friend." "You too, Paul." "How's the new life treating you? We miss you around the office, you know." "Best decision I ever made," said Jack without hesitation. "No more stress, no more meetings... finally doing what I love." I followed Jack's gaze as he looked with obvious pride at the rows of workbenches in his cookery classroom. He really did seem to be in his element. Warm white Christmas lights and holly branches were arranged around the windows, giving the space a homely and inviting holiday feel. Most of the other people had already arrived. They stood around, some chatting, some investigating the ingredients and equipment that had been laid out ready for them. The room bustled with warm lights, warm sounds and warm bodies. One figure, closer to the back of the room, caught my eye more than the rest. A blond-haired boy of ten or eleven was sitting on a countertop, looking around the room with a mixture of curiosity and boredom. A green backpack sat on the floor by his feet. "There's kids taking this class? Way to make me feel inadequate, Jack." "That's Nick," laughed Jack. "My son." "Of course! Wow, he must have been four or five the last time I met him." "That's true, it would have been back when Sharon..." Jack tailed off, looking a little distant. I reached out to squeeze his hand, and he came back to the room with a smile. "We should get started!" Jack said brightly, raising his voice to draw the attention of the class. "Welcome to this special festive edition of baking for beginners! Thank you for coming, everyone." I looked around hurriedly for a free station as Jack continued with his introduction. There was one countertop still open, at the back of the room next to where Nick was sitting. I made my way over, smiling instinctively at the boy as I took my place. He looked up, seeming surprised to have his presence acknowledged. I tuned back in to what Jack was saying. Mix together the butter and brown sugar. Sounded easy enough. I peeled off the paper and dropped the butter into the bowl in front of me, feeling satisfied with how it was going so far. Then I cast around on the countertop for the sugar. "Everyone okay?" asked Jack, walking by with a smile. "Any questions so far?" I flashed a thumbs up as I found the sugar I was looking for, and Jack responded with a wink. In front of me, a woman raised her hand tentatively. "I'm not getting the hang of this," she apologized. "I can't make the sugar mix with the butter, I just keep tipping the bowl over." She poked at the contents of the bowl with her spoon to demonstrate. "That's okay!" Jack reassured her. "Takes a while to get the hang of it. Nick, can you help Gloria?" The blond boy jumped down from the counter next to me and walked over to the counter in front. I tried to keep my eyes from drifting upwards to alight on his butt. His upper body moved in a mesmerizing pattern as he gripped the bowl in one arm and demonstrated how to work the sugar into the butter with his other hand. "Like this," he said, focused on the bowl. "You have to sort of... press it." Nick's voice was sweet like liquid silver, with the same smiling quality that his father's deep baritone always had. My eyes drilled a well in the small of his back, and I had to force my attention back onto my own mixing bowl. "Thanks," I heard the woman in front of me say. "I think I've got it." I felt a pang of jealousy as the boy left her side. "You're good at that," I said, feeling compelled to try and strike up a conversation as the boy returned to his seat atop the counter. "Thanks," replied Nick shyly. "Dad says it's all in the wrist technique." I laughed. "Isn't it always." I said it without thinking, but my mind immediately turned it into an innuendo. Damn, I needed to watch my mouth. Nick looked at me curiously before dropping his gaze again. I wondered if his mind had gone to the same place as mine. "I'm Paul," I said, changing the subject. "Used to work with your dad. I think we've met before, actually. Nick, right?" "I don't remember you," the boy said slowly. "Sorry." "Nah, you were pretty young," I reassured him. "You wouldn't remember it." "Okay." I cast around for something to keep the conversation going, but came up blank. Mutely I carried on mixing my butter and sugar, feeling acutely aware of Nick's presence beside me. "Not bad," said Jack, inspecting my handiwork as he walked between the worktops once more. "You might be a natural." "Not like Nick here," I said, dodging the compliment. "He's quite the little expert. Have you seen his wrist technique?" I thought I saw Nick's cheeks take on a faint red color as he avoided my gaze. So maybe he did grok my accidental innuendo before? "I've taught him well," said Jack proudly. "Though heaven knows you must be bored of all this, eh?" Jack ruffled Nick's blond hair, prompting the boy to squirm out of the way. "Considering how many of these I've dragged you to." "I'm not bored," said Nick, seeming more engaged now than he had before. "Can I join in again?" "Really?" Jack seemed surprised. "Sure, there's more ingredients at the front." "Okay!" Nick walked up to the front of the class, and my eyes followed him of their own accord. "How's everybody doing?" broke in Jack, addressing the room again. "Ready for the next step? I want you to find your eggs. Eggs, eggs, everybody got eggs?" I found the carton of eggs and tried to follow Jack's instructions, breaking them almost too cautiously. Despite my best efforts, a piece of shell escaped into the mixing bowl. I chased it around with my fingers, cursing under my breath as it evaded my attempts to evict it. "What are you looking at?" I joked to Nick, who was back at his station and working expertly on his own sugar-and-butter mixture. If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn he was angling his body slightly so I could better admire his technique. "Nothing," said the boy apologetically, but his smile let me know he could tell I was joking. "Got it!" I exclaimed triumphantly as I finally gripped the fragment of eggshell and removed it from the bowl. "Aha!" In front of me, Gloria turned around, curious about the commotion. Her hoop earrings bobbed slightly as she rotated. "Just fighting with an eggshell," I explained jovially. "Carry on." She turned back to her work with a slight raise of her eyebrow. Nick let out a little laugh, and I flashed him a conspiratorial grin. Damn. I was falling for this kid. I bit my tongue and focused on my baking. "Now for the flour, and a pinch of flavor if you want," said Jack. "We've got some ginger, lemon zest, vanilla, some lovely Christmas spices... experiment a bit, but don't go overboard! You can always add more, but you can't take it out again." "Right," I announced decisively. "These are going to be the Christmassiest cookies that ever did Christmas." Beside me I heard Nick suppress a snort of laughter. I sorted through the spices and flavors, overacting as I added a studied dash of every single one. Nick looked at me with slight incredulity. "What's the matter?" I asked. "Never seen a genius at work before?" Nick just shook his head with a little smile and turned back to his own worktable, carefully measuring out vanilla flavoring into a spoon. As he focused on his task, he looked somehow more grown up than he had before. I followed along as Jack demonstrated how to dust the countertop with flour and roll out the cookie dough into a uniform sheet. Well, his was uniform. Mine was decidedly not, no matter how much I coaxed it. "There's more cookie cutters at the front, so if you can't find the one you want, come up here and see what else we've got," said Jack cheerily. I thought about trying to make as many different shaped cookies as I could, but something about young Nick's professional demeanor made me want to take it more seriously. I looked regretfully at the uneven sheet of dough in front of me, and carefully started to cut out equal numbers of Christmas bells and stars. About halfway through cutting out shapes, I looked up to see Nick perched on the counter again, inspecting my work. "What happened to your cookies?" I asked. "Already in the oven," replied the boy proudly. I felt slightly flustered, and tried to speed up my efforts. The dough seemed to stick to everything: the cookie cutter, the countertop, my fingers. The shapes I ended up with bore little resemblance to the cutters I was working with. Why did it bother me? I dropped the last misshapen dough portion onto the baking sheet and stood back, feeling my cheeks flush in the warm room. Curse Melanie for persuading me this was a good idea. If the cookies came out as bad as I was expecting, I would make her eat them all as punishment. "Good enough," I declared, trying to convince myself as much as anyone else. The hot air from the oven rushed past my face and clawed at my flushed cheeks. I placed my tray carefully inside and closed the door quickly, feeling glad that the hard part was done. Thankfully I was far from the last to finish, but the room was already starting to fill with warm, buttery Christmas aromas as one by one the various creations of the amateur bakers began to cook. Beside me, Nick hopped down from the counter and bent down to check on his oven. "You're not telling me yours are done already," I protested. "Not quite," Nick said without turning round. "Another minute." A wave of warm vanilla sugar encircled my nostrils, released from the oven the boy had just opened. Nick's little round butt stuck in the air behind him as he bent down in front of the oven door. "Making my mouth water," I admitted. He stood up and turned to look at me. God, did he somehow know what was going through my head? The boy was silent for a moment, leaning on the counter as if thinking about something. Then his expression solidified into a decision. Without looking at me, he spoke again. "I'll let you taste mine if I can taste yours." My heart skipped two beats, then beat three times more in the space where the next one should have been. Did I just imagine that? There's no way... "Are you sure?" I laughed, desperately trying to play it cool. "I mean, you saw how many of those spices I added. They might be too Christmassy for you." I paused, but the silence was too uncomfortable, and I carried on talking just to fill it. "I'm surprised, they actually smell pretty good! To be honest -" Jack's loud voice cut in again, rescuing me from a sentence that was going nowhere. "Everybody got their cookies in the oven? Anybody need a few more minutes? Okay, great! Let's talk icing! Don't worry, this part's easy." "Just don't try to put all the colors in," Nick advised me with a grin. "And why not?" "It just comes out kinda... greeny-brown." "You've tried it, I take it?" "I... was trying to make rainbow cookies," confessed the blond boy, slightly embarrassed. I looked at him and smiled, appreciating his sweet candor. He grinned back, evidently seeing the funny side of his story. "I can laugh about it now," he joked, sounding older than he was, and prompting a chuckle from me. "Don't forget your cookies," I reminded him. "Shit!" the boy exclaimed, then flushed red. "Sorry." He bent down to open the oven. "They're okay," he said with relief that gave way to obvious pride. "Golden brown. Perfect." "I'm glad," I said truthfully. "Mine still need another five minutes at least, by my reckoning." I settled for two batches of icing in the end, one red and one white. Simple but festive, I thought. On Nick's advice, I made sure to let the cookies cool down plenty before trying to pipe the icing on, and wouldn't you know it, they came out looking pretty good! "What's it taste like?" asked Nick, as he saw me sample one of them. "It's... it's definitely Christmassy," I said wryly. Nick grinned, but he didn't ask for a taste. I guess he forgot our deal, or maybe he didn't want to mention it again. I didn't bring it up either. After the class I stopped to catch up with Jack. "Thanks, Jack, I had a good time," I told him. "You really did a great job. It's great to see you enjoying your work." "I appreciate it, Paul. It's great fun, especially this time of year. I'm so glad you enjoyed it. And listen, I hope Nick didn't get in your way. He can be... well, he can be quite the handful." "No, no, he was no trouble. We got on just fine. I can tell you're doing a great job raising him, Jack." "That means a lot, Paul. It's... well, it's hard, you know. God, he must be bored out of his mind with these cooking classes. Actually I was surprised he decided to join in today. That must be his tenth holiday cookies class, and I'm going to have to drag him along to something like six more of these before Christmas day. He's only just eleven, you know, or I'd let him stay home alone, but... well, I can just imagine the kind of trouble that one would get himself into. Another year or two, maybe." "Well listen, Jack, I can take him off your hands if you ever need a break," I heard myself say. What? Damn, what the hell was I doing? "I work from home mostly these days, so it'd really be no trouble." "For real? You know, Paul, that could really be a lifesaver... are you sure?" Was I sure? Hell no! "Yes," I said. "Really, no trouble at all." "Wow... okay, well, uh... can you do Wednesday? I have two classes that afternoon, and a bunch of errands to run, you'd be doing me a huge favor." I checked the calendar on my phone, though I already knew I was going to say yes anyway. "Wednesday... yup, Wednesday works." "Okay. And you're really sure? It's only for a few hours." "I'm sure." "Let me check with Nick. Hey Nick?" Jack raised his voice to Nick at the back of the room. "Is it okay if Paul watches you at his house Wednesday afternoon? Saves you having to suffer through another two rounds of Christmas cookies." "Sure, Dad," said Nick. I tried to read the kid's face, but his expression was impenetrable. On the way home I stopped to pick up groceries. On a whim, I picked out a few baking supplies. Trying to recapture the sense of adventure I'd felt during Jack's class, I suppose. Stupid. Wednesday, though. Isn't it a nice sounding word? It has a sort of melodic quality to it, as if the middle three letters have left a silent shadow of a syllable that makes you pause for a moment between its first and second half. I'm not sure why I'd never noticed that before. I did a quick once-over of the house on Wednesday morning, making sure everything was presentable. I wasn't sure what Nick would do while I was working, but there was always the PlayStation and the TV. I must have been nervous, because as two o'clock arrived, I kept getting up from my desk and pacing around my home office. Five or six times during the morning I'd nearly called to cancel, but I told myself that I was helping out an old friend. And I couldn't go back on it after I'd committed. It was fine. It was only a few hours. The doorbell. "Jack, good to see you again. Hi, Nick." "Paul, thank you so much. I can't stop, I'm afraid, I'm already running late. You're a lifesaver, Paul. Got everything you need, Nick? I'll be back to pick him up at five. Six at the latest." "Come on in, Nick. No, don't worry about taking your shoes off. Up to you. Come on in, let's get that door closed, it's freezing outside." It was a strange feeling as the door clicked shut and I was suddenly alone in the house with Nick. I've always felt uncomfortable having people in my house, as if they're entering my mind and rifling through my thoughts. But it didn't feel quite that way with Nick. Maybe because he was the son of an old friend? He looked at me inquisitively. "Okay, let me give you the tour," I said decisively. "And then, I'm afraid, I have to get back to work. No rest for the wicked. But we'll find you something to keep you busy." I showed him the kitchen, the bathroom and the living room. He didn't say much, but he seemed happy enough, I thought. He'd be fine. "Help yourself to anything you need. And here," I said, gesturing to my office, "is where I'll be if you need me." "Okay," said Nick. The boy settled down on the couch right away, pulling out a book from his green backpack. I was surprised by how readily he made himself at home. I paused for a moment before returning to my desk. It must have been an hour or so later that Nick poked his head into the office. "Can I do my homework in here?" he asked, pointing to the spare desk against the other wall. "I'll be quiet, I won't disturb you." "Okay, sure," I agreed. I couldn't see why not. It might be nice to have some company. It was a long time since that second desk had seen any use. "Thanks." To begin with, it was harder to focus, knowing that he was there. I resisted the constant urge to turn and look at him, but still his presence somehow seemed to occupy part of my brain, reducing my capacity for other thoughts. He was true to his word, though, making barely a sound. Eventually I settled back into my work, and time started to pass again. "Paul?" The boy's voice startled me slightly. Or maybe it was hearing him say my name that startled me. It sounded different when he said it. "What's up, kiddo?" "Can you... can you help me with this?" I wheeled my chair over, glad of an excuse to rest my eyes from my screen. "No problem. Let's take a look." I scanned the book on the desk in front of Nick. As before, his presence started to take over some of my brain, so it took me a few moments to figure out what I was looking at. He leaned in close as we looked at the page together, which didn't help my focus one bit. "Okay, let's see..." I worked my way through the steps of the math problem. "Long time since I've done one of these. Well, that looks right. And that looks good too. So... to get to the final answer you'd just need to add those two together, right?" "Oh, I see," said Nick, looking relieved. "That makes sense. Thanks, Paul." "No problem at all." Could he really not figure that one out? It wasn't too difficult, and he'd already done the tough parts of the problem. And he was a smart kid. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was just making up an excuse to get me to sit next to him. "It's snowing!" exclaimed Nick a little while later. I looked up from my work. Sure enough, fat white flakes were pouring from the sky outside the window. "Wow, it really is. I can't believe I didn't notice. Wonder how long it's been going on." "It wasn't snowing when we got here," said Nick. I got up and walked over to the window to examine the blizzard outside. Nick padded over and stood next to me, and we watched the snowfall together for a minute or two. "That's a lot of snow," I said stupidly. "Yeah," agreed Nick with excitement. "Okay, well we can't gawp at it all day. Plenty more work to be done. At least, I can't keep standing about. You, young man, are free to gawp for as long as you like." I didn't notice him sit back down, but when I looked up again some time later, his head was down in his homework once more. "Hey Nick," I ventured, after staring indecisively at my screen for several moments. "Which of these do you like better?" I indicated the two designs on my display, and he came over to study them closely. "The orange one," he said decisively. "Thanks!" I closed out the other file, leaving only the one that Nick preferred. He looked surprised and proud at how readily I accepted his opinion. "What's it for?" asked the blond boy. "Just an advertisement. For a bank." "Cool!" "You think? It's hard to get excited about banking," I sighed. "But it pays the bills." "The advertisement makes it look cool," said Nick. "Thanks!" I said, genuinely pleased by his enthusiasm for my work. "Can you tell the bank that? Maybe they'll pay me more." My phone rang on the desk beside me. "That's my dad," said Nick, recognizing Jack's picture on the phone screen. "Hi, Jack," I said, picking up the call. "Paul," came Jack's voice, his usual cheerful warmth sounding rushed and a little panicked. "Listen, I'm running late. All this snow, it's taking forever to get anywhere. I'll be with you by seven, okay?" I looked dubiously at the snow that was still falling in fits and flurries outside the window. "Be careful, Jack. It's a blizzard out there." "I know, don't worry about me. How are you getting on, how's Nick been?" "He's been great," I said. "No trouble at all." I smiled at Nick, and won a sweet smile from him in reply. "Good to hear," said Jack. "Listen, can you feed him? I know it's a lot to ask, but we'd usually eat before seven. I'm sorry, Paul, I wouldn't ask if I had another way. He'll eat whatever, just give him some pizza or something." Good luck getting hold of a pizza in this weather, I thought. "No problem, Jack. You just take care of yourself and drive safe. Don't want you rushing." "Thanks, Paul." He sounded drained. "Can you put Nick on?" "Sure." I passed the phone to Nick. As the boy chatted with his father, I closed down the work on my computer. Time to wind down for the day. "Sorry I'm stuck here," said Nick, handing me back the phone. "Nonsense," I said. "It's a pleasure to have your company, young man. Now, what shall we do about dinner? There's plenty in the fridge, but... I'm not a very good cook." "I am," said Nick proudly. "Come on, let's see what we can make." He was already racing off to the kitchen. I followed at a slower pace, so that by the time I got there he was already amassing a pile of things on the countertop. "Is it okay if we use these?" asked the blond boy, gesturing to the spoils of his refrigerator raid. "Sure!" I agreed. "What are we making?" "Chicken Alfredo," said Nick happily. "Well, I don't know what that is, but it sounds amazing. What can I do?" Nick looked doubtful, evidently remembering my past performance with the cookies. "You can... cook the pasta," he decided eventually. "Pasta. Now that I think I can manage. Roger that." The boy worked fast, and somehow he had a creamy chicken sauce ready and steaming on the stovetop before I had even managed to get the pasta halfway done. "That smells absolutely delicious," I said. Nick beamed. "How did you learn to cook?" I asked him, feeling a little jealous. "I wish I knew how to make stuff like that. You didn't even follow a recipe." "I don't know," said Nick. "Dad always cooks, and I always help out. It's always been like that. I never really learned." "Well, you're a lucky boy," I told him. "And talented, too." "Is the pasta ready?" "I think so. I'm letting the side down here, aren't I?" The food was every bit as delicious as it smelled. We ate quickly, and it was barely half past six by the time we were done. "Your dad won't be here for a while. He said seven, but with this snow I'm betting it could be even longer. What do you want to do while we wait for him? Shall we watch a movie?" "What if we don't finish it before he gets here?" "We can finish it next time." Nick looked at me and smiled. "Okay." I sat down on one side of the couch, leaving plenty of space for him in the same spot where he'd sat to read his book earlier in the afternoon. "Remote's over there," I said, indicating the coffee table. "You can pick. Guest's privilege." Nick obediently picked up the remote control and came over to join me on the couch. I felt myself flinch a little as he sat down much closer to me than I was expecting. I shuffled uncomfortably, but didn't move. There wasn't really anywhere to go anyway. The boy pointed the TV remote at the screen. As he did so he snuggled up against my shoulder. I could smell the sweet scent of his blond hair and feel the warmth of his body at my side. I froze, as unsure of what to do next as I have ever been about anything in my life. "Cold?" I asked dumbly. Nick looked up at me, his face dangerously close to mine. He gave a little wide-eyed nod. I said nothing, but turned what was left of my attention to the TV screen. The Christmas tree glowed and glittered beside it, splashing a gentle pool of multi-colored light onto the wall. "See anything good?" I asked, trying to think about anything but what the boy was doing to me. "Hmm... this one," decided Nick, picking an animated Christmas movie. "Is that okay?" His body vibrated almost imperceptibly with the sound of his treble voice. I felt it travel through my shoulder and into my chest, like a little torrent of water trying to erode the barriers I was putting up inside. "Perfect," I said, without really looking at what he'd picked at all. The movie opened with a snowy night-time scene and a sound of sleighbells that led into an upbeat Christmas song. The blond boy nestled closer, bringing more of his body into contact with mine. I sat there frozen as the movie played in front of my incapacitated eyes. I took in none of it, my mind instead entirely obsessed with the blond boy folded warmly against my shoulder. My mind started to wander, unbidden. The pressure of Nick's body was warm, comfortable, intoxicating. With a sort of dismayed resignation, I felt my cock start to twitch in my pants. Hello, old friend. I was wondering when you were going to show up. I resisted the urge to adjust my position. With any luck the boy wouldn't notice. Just keep watching the movie. I fixed my eyes on the screen and tried to tune into what was happening. Something to do with a snowman. And... a squirrel? Wow, I really hadn't been following the story at all. Even as I tried to listen to what they were saying, my mind wandered back to Nick again. I imagined myself wrapping my arm around him, pulling him closer. In my mind I held his head against my chest and breathed in his soft blond hair. I pictured his hand alighting on the fabric that covered my dick, transferring his magical electricity into me. Damn, I was getting so hard it was uncomfortable. I looked down at my crotch, certain there must be an obvious bulge. Should I move and try to hide it, or would that just make him more likely to notice? Fuck! Too late. The kid wasn't even looking at the movie, but was staring right at my apparently unmistakable tent. How long had he been peering down there? He noticed me catch his gaze, and lifted his eyes to mine, his expression unreadable. My heart was beating so fast and so hard that I was sure he must be able to feel it. The movie flashed in silent color on the screen in my peripheral vision, drowned out by the pounding in my ears. Time stretched out, so that I wasn't sure how long I sat in frozen uncertainty. I felt Nick's body move, and saw him reach out to hit the pause button on the TV remote. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry and nothing happened. The boy looked up at me inquisitively, as if he was expecting me to do something. "Your phone," he said. "Aren't you going to answer it?" "Huh? Oh... of course." I latched onto the sound of the phone. The layers of the soundscape shifted into focus like a kaleidoscope, bringing the familiar ringing tone back to the foreground. Was that relief I felt, or disappointment? "I'm not going to make it, Paul," came Jack's agitated voice almost immediately as I answered the call. "I'm snowed in, I've made it back to my place but there's no way I'm getting back to yours tonight. I don't know what to do, I'm so sorry. I never meant to impose on you like this." Nick was still curled up against my shoulder. I wasn't sure if he could hear what his dad was saying on the other end of the line. I felt somehow guilty, talking to Jack while his son nestled warmly against me on the couch. Suddenly I was aware that I could feel Nick's breathing, and instinctively I moved the phone away from him, to my other ear, as if I was worried Jack would somehow sense his proximity. "It's okay, Jack. Don't worry. Yes, he can sleep in Melanie's old room. No, don't worry about it. Not at all. Of course. We'll see you in the morning. Stay safe. Okay. Okay Jack." I turned to Nick, who was looking at me with wide inquisitive eyes, waiting to hear the outcome of the conversation. "Well, looks like you're staying the night, young man." There was another silence, as we both contemplated the implications of that, I suppose. I fixed Nick's eyes, afraid of where his gaze would go next if I let go of it. His brown irises reflected little sparks of colored light from the Christmas tree on the other side of the room. God, I couldn't take it. He was a fucking angel. Did he know what he was doing? "Listen," I said, forcing myself to break the silence. "I don't know if I'm feeling the movie. Want to do something else?" "Like what?" Nick sat up slightly, attentive, not breaking eye contact. Fuck. Fuck! That unreadable expression again. I thought fast. "Want to do some more baking?" I suggested. "We've got time. And those cookies I made the other day... they really weren't that good. I want to get better." You can teach me that expert wrist technique, I wanted to say, but thought better of it. "Okay," agreed Nick. Did I catch a flicker of disappointment run across his face, though? I guess he was enjoying the movie. Too bad. This was my escape plan. "We can make gingerbread," said the boy enthusiastically. "I make really good gingerbread." Good. That would keep him occupied. Now if I could just make it a couple more hours until bedtime. "Lead the way, then," I said approvingly. Once in the kitchen, Nick took on an obvious new confidence. He commanded the space like an experienced general marshalling his troops. I followed his directions readily, fetching out ingredients and mixing what he told me to mix. It was good to have something to keep my mind occupied. "Want to taste?" he asked once the mixture was ready. He dipped a finger in the thick bronze-colored dough and held it out invitingly. Fuck. "No," I dodged, "I trust your expertise." "Fine," he said, licking the dough off his own finger instead. I watched it disappear into his mouth with a pang of desperation. "It's good," he said. "You're missing out." Didn't I know it. "Gingerbread men? Or gingerbread Christmas trees?" I asked, changing the subject as I hunted out my limited selection of newly purchased cookie cutters. "Hmm... trees," said the boy. "And we can decorate them with candy." "Okay," I laughed, handing over the cookie cutter. "You do it," he said, handing the cutter back and stepping away from the dough he had just finished rolling into a flat sheet. "Okay," I agreed doubtfully. I cut out my first tree, surprised at how well it came out. "Wow, it's a lot easier when the dough isn't all sticky," I said. "No wonder my cookies all came out funny shapes last time." I placed the tree-shaped cutter on the sheet of dough again, ready to cut out another cookie with more confidence this time. "Not like that!" giggled Nick, grabbing my hand and lifting it away. I dropped the cutter in surprise as I felt his skin on mine. "Look," said the boy, picking up the cutter and showing me how to place it. "Turn it this way, then you don't waste the bits in between the trees." "Oh! Smart," I said. Yeah, he was definitely faking when he said he couldn't do that math problem earlier. If the kid could optimize yield from a sheet of cookie dough, there was no way he couldn't figure out how to add two numbers together. "And now... now, we wait," said Nick ominously, as he placed the baking tray carefully into the oven with an evil grin. I looked at him quizzically. "You know? Like in the movie," he explained. "Oh! Sure," I said, pretending I had been paying attention to it. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to sit down while I wait." I pulled out a chair and sat down beside the table. I hadn't realized it, but I was pretty tired. Something about the effort of trying to keep the boy, and myself, occupied. The relief of sitting down didn't last long, though. A second later, Nick hopped up onto my lap. Instantly my dick was awake again, as if all the work I had put in to distract it had done nothing at all. "Oh... hello," I heard myself say stupidly. "Hi," smiled Nick. His voice was still filled with the confidence that the baking had brought out in him. The boy in my lap adjusted his position, getting comfortable. He supported himself with his hands on my legs as he shifted his weight. Each movement of his butt against my crotch was sweet, irresistible torture. Finally he settled, happy with his position. No longer in control of my own actions, I felt my right arm lift in the air and land gently on Nick's leg. The room was slowly filling with the smell of warm gingerbread baking in the oven. I waited for a second, wondering if he would push me away. I almost wanted him to, because it meant he would move, and his backside would rub the layers of clothing atop my desperate cock once more. But he didn't stop me. I let my hand move gently. With one finger I nuzzled daringly at the folds of stiff fabric behind which I knew his little cock and balls must be hiding. He didn't stop me. Now my left hand came up too, as if drawn by a magnetic need for symmetry. The index finger and thumb of both hands met instinctively at Nick's waist, finding the button there and slipping it nimbly from its confines. From there, the movements of my hands felt almost predestined, symmetrical and inevitable. The gentle tug at the zip, the teasing pull at either side of the boy's waistband. He leant back, straightening his body slightly, lifting his waist and allowing his pants to move more easily under the command of my fingers. Instinctively my hips followed his shape, pressing my body back into his. Now my left hand wrapped around his stomach, holding him close. I could see his dick was hard, because although I had tugged his waistband down several inches, his underpants were still held up at the front by its modest flagpole. My right hand found the taut little tepee and flipped it open, releasing three inches of boy cock into the warmth of the kitchen. Nick shifted slightly, almost imperceptibly. My cock strained in its confinement, pressing gratefully against the movement of his body. Delicately I took my little prize between my fingertips. The boy was uncut, and his skin responded easily to even the tiniest movements of my hand. His dick felt hot and hard, and I rubbed my palm over its length, suddenly wanting to feel it all over my skin. Then, with careful precision, I used my fingers to stroke the little boy cock up and down. I sank into the rhythmic motion, working slowly, wanting Nick to relax. He moved slightly, and I panicked, loosening my hold on him, wondering if he wanted to stop. In response he grabbed my left hand, pulling it closer around him. His fingers held on to mine and didn't let go. With the fingers and thumb of my right hand, I carried on manipulating Nick's hard cock. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, fulfilling my fantasy of inhaling the scent of his soft blond hair against my chest. The boy-smell mixed with the warm aroma of baking gingerbread. I don't know how long my eyes stayed closed as I stroked and pleasured the angel in my lap. Eventually he shifted again, turning almost sideways. I felt his body start to tense as he moved, and I opened my eyes to see him bending his neck to look up at me. His eyes seemed to grow wider as I returned his stare. His hand tightened its grip on mine. I just kept moving my right hand, feeling little jolts travel through the boy. After a minute he resumed his original position, breaking the eye contact and stretching out his body almost completely straight. His fingers gripped my other hand tightly and his little chest strained and expanded under the embrace of my left arm. With a shudder, Nick's body stretched out, rigid. I held him close and stroked his dick firmly, dependably, lovingly. His body tightened; his grip tightened. His breathing stopped, as if even breathing wasn't important anymore. A delicate, euphoric, enormous pause. And then the release, and he was warm and soft in my arms, breathing in and out again, relaxed and angelic. We sat for a silent moment in the warm glow. "You're good at that," said Nick. "It's... it's all in the wrist technique," I stammered. The boy giggled, and his vibrations travelled into my body and lit up nerve centers I didn't even know I had. "I, uh... I think those cookies are ready," I said clumsily. "Good timing," said Nick easily, buttoning his pants. Damn, how was I suddenly the awkward one? "It's getting pretty late," I said. "They'll be too hot to eat before bed. We might have to have them in the morning. Goodness, Christmas cookies for breakfast. What would your dad say?" "We don't have to tell him," said Nick, looking me in the eye. You don't say. "Let's leave them on the counter to cool," I said, looking away. "You don't have any overnight things with you, I guess. We'll have to see if we can find you a toothbrush." "Okay..." Damn his angelic face. He was making me feel guilty now. Was I really not going to talk to him about what had just happened? I went to the bathroom and rummaged in the cabinet, finding toothpaste and a spare toothbrush. Damn, I needed this kid to hurry up and go to bed so I could jerk off. Things were getting pretty desperate down there. When I turned, Nick was in the doorway, looking at me with that unreadable expression again. "Here you go," I said, trying to give him a cheerful grin. He didn't move. In fact, he looked a little sullen, I thought. "You don't want to brush your teeth?" I said. Damn, memories of bringing up kids of my own, years ago now. Nick shook his head, still sullenly silent. "Fine," I told him. "I'm not your dad. I can't make you. I'll show you the room." I was tired. I needed to jerk off, and then I needed to go to sleep. I needed to process. The blond boy followed me mutely as I showed him to Melanie's old room. "Do you want me to tuck you in?" I asked instinctively, switching straight back into dad mode despite all the years. Nick looked at me as if he was fighting tears. I could see something welling up inside him. I bit my tongue and mustered the patience to wait for him to speak. "Why are you treating me like a little kid again?" he burst out finally. His voice had a bitter edge to it. "Didn't you... didn't you like what we did together? Don't you... don't you like me?" I could tell how hard he was trying not to cry. I didn't know what to say, and I was quiet for too long before responding. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was... I guess I'm scared," I realized. "I did like it. I liked it a lot. I like you a lot." Fuck. "Scared of what?" he asked. Now there was a question. I paused, casting around for an answer, and finding far too many of them. "I'm not going to tell my dad," Nick assured me. I could tell he was looking at me in a different way. His expression was curious. Maybe it hadn't occurred to him that I might be nervous. That I had been terrified to make the first move. That I was still terrified. "I'm glad you liked it," the boy ventured. "Before. I liked it too. A lot." I nodded mutely. Then, without warning, Nick started to take off his t-shirt. He did it slowly, only breaking eye contact briefly as the fabric passed over his face. His bare arms were revealed all at once as he lifted his elbows above his head to pull the shirt free. A moment later he was unbuttoning his pants, bending slowly to lower them to the floor. Still he locked my eyes with his, freezing me to the spot. Now he was standing in just his boxers, the rest of his clothes in a puddle on the floor in front of his feet. He was just undressing to go to bed, my mind tried to tell me, though I didn't believe it. Then his boxers were gone too, and he stood staring at me, waiting for my next move. His dick popped up, three inches of eager boyish hardness sticking out in front of him. It was stupid, but something about the sight of it reassured me somehow. It felt familiar, uncomplicated. A simple question with a simple answer. It reminded me of the relaxed warmth of the kitchen, where everything had felt so inevitable. "Not here," I said. My words scraped in my dry throat. Not in Melanie's room. That was too weird. "My room," I managed, before I turned from my spot in the doorway. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I walked deliberately into my own bedroom, not daring to look behind me. Nick's naked form dashed past me and fairly leapt onto my big double bed. He lay on his front, smiling, supporting his head with his arms. His naked butt against my sheets was far and away the most beautiful sight that had ever met my eyes. The boy looked suddenly more comfortable now, as if he belonged here more than he had in the guest room. He propped up his head on one elbow and looked at me expectantly. I didn't have to wonder what he was waiting for. Suddenly having clothes on felt stupid, unnecessary. I followed his lead and unbuttoned my shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Then I pulled off my belt and unbuttoned my pants too. My hands trembled as I fumbled with the little zipper. Damn the thing. Why did they have to make them so small? Finally I was down to my underpants. I was surprised, honestly, how little I felt self-conscious. I guess maybe we were past that point? My dick was nervous, only half-hard, but I let it out anyway. It started to grow as it felt the open air that was now the only thing separating it from Nick's touch. Nick shuffled sideways on the bed, rolling onto his back and making a space for me next to him. I obeyed the silent instruction and lowered myself down beside the little blond boy. As my back touched the mattress, I suddenly felt my heartbeat again, ricocheting around my body. For a moment we lay there motionless. But my dick was rock hard now, and it wasn't going to let me wait forever. And anyway, there was no going back now. I extended my hand and took Nick's arm, guiding his fingers to my anticipating shaft. He didn't resist, and willingly let his fingers wrap around the circumference of my cock. His warm palm print seared itself into my skin, sending a jolt through my whole body. God, this wasn't going to take long. I had been desperate for this all evening. "God, Nick, that feels so good," I said. Nick smiled, looking pleased. Without needing to be told, he started to move his little hand up and down. "Ohhh, my god," I said, losing myself to the pleasure. I closed my eyes and put my hands behind my head, lying back on the bed. Warmth coursed through my body. I felt movement as Nick shuffled around, repositioning himself on the bed, but his blissful hand never left my dick. I was getting close. I could feel my balls starting to twitch, anxious to release the barely contained load that had been building for hours. I should say something. Didn't want to take him by surprise. It was then that I felt the movement of Nick's hand pause briefly. Half a second later I felt the light but unmistakable touch of lips against the tip of my dick. Fuck! Was he...? I opened my eyes to the beautiful sight of the blond boy sinking his mouth onto my cock. His blond hair fell softly at either side of his face, leaving a gap in the middle where his brown eyes looked up at me. Instantly I was over the edge, as the warmth of his little mouth enveloped the burning head of my frantic cock. "Fuck!" I shouted out loud as I started to cum, hard, into the boy's unsuspecting mouth. "Fuck... Oh god." Nick's eyes widened and he pulled away, spluttering slightly. The sight of my cum dripping from his mouth drove me wild, as I shot another painful volley, and then another. Freed from the boy's lips, my dick twitched violently, painting my stomach with a final rope of cum that ended in a gushing little dribble. I breathed heavily, looking down at little Nick in disbelief. He looked back at me with a quizzical expression. "Did you know it was going to do that?" the boy asked, in a vaguely accusatory tone. "No! No... I mean yes, but God, I was going to warn you first. But then you... I didn't think I was going to cum so fast. God, you made me cum so hard. And so fast. It... it doesn't usually happen like that." "It doesn't?" Nick beamed. "It does not." "It's all in the wrist technique," grinned the blond boy. "I guess that must be it," I agreed. Nick laid back on the bed, arms behind his head, mimicking my earlier position. His cute little three-inch boy cock stuck straight up in front of his smooth stomach. He turned his head slightly, looking at me expectantly. "Did you forget our deal?" he asked. "I taste yours; you taste mine." I guess he wasn't talking about cookies, then. *** Happy Christmas! With love from your friend, Neo. *** Need more holiday reading? Here are my other stories on Nifty. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/word-of-the-day/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/backseat-passenger https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/will-you-be-my-boyfriend/ *** Write to me at hello_neo@protonmail.com. I'd love to hear from you.